Read Ebook: The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse Together with Numerous Songs Upon Canadian Subjects by Cowherd Thomas

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Oh, cruel Liquor! Thou hast millions slain, And still their death-throes cry to thee in vain! Ten thousand broken hearts may soon be found In almost every land the world around. Millions of orphans' cries thine ears assail, While parents' early death they loud bewail; The prisons and asylums which we build, From thy sad victims' ranks are chiefly filled. War's dreadful ravages are justly blamed; But war with thee deserves not to be named! And still, insatiate monster! thy dread jaws Are daily filled--being unrestrained by laws! When will the day, the happy day, arrive, When thee the injured nations forth shall drive?

Beware, Apprentices! In time beware! Flee from those places which would you insnare; Regard that man as your real enemy, Who, tempting, leads to inebriety! Now, while you daily toil, I wish you may Have many a truly happy holiday!

He had a strange, romantic turn of mind; To taste adventure ever felt inclined. This being premised, we may expect to see, That by slight dangers undeterred was he From venturing to the edge of precipice, To have a peep into some dark abyss. The hill of which I spoke has sometimes been, As was well known, the site of tragic scene. It is a solid mass of limestone rock-- And there oft falls some huge misshapen block. On one occasion a poor quarryman Saw danger pending, and away he ran; 'Twas all in vain! the lately-riven stone Came thundering down, and crushed his every bone! A tale like this might well some minds appal-- But WILLIAM felt, just then, of dauntless soul; And, with his cousin, hasted up the hill, With eager steps and most unyielding will; A scene there met his gaze which him repaid, And threw the toil required far in the shade.

To hint at all he saw my time would fail, And might too much but lengthen out my tale. Suffice it, therefore, just for me to say, That he spent pleasantly each holiday.

Ere this, when he was in his fourteenth year, Amongst the Temperance ranks he did appear; Attended meetings, heard the speeches made, And grew indignant at the liquor trade. He signed the pledge--the strict "teetotal" pledge-- And felt determined constant war to wage Against the huge, fierce monster, Drunkenness Which caused, on every hand, such sore distress. A drunken parent he had never had-- The Lord preserved him from a fate so sad! But still his fervent soul was filled with grief, From which he vainly strove to gain relief, So long as this dread vice o'erspread the land, And strong drink's victims died, on every hand. He thought upon the thing till bold he grew, And framed a speech to tell of all he knew Of this vile demon's doings in the world, And wished that out of it he might be hurled.

Soon after this, from Canada there came A Christian man; no matter what his name. He long to WILLIAM'S parents had been known, And hospitality to him was shown. On that good country's merits much he dwelt, And COOPER'S ears being open, soon he felt A strong desire to reach that distant shore, And all its giant wonders to explore. Oft he had heard of its vast, splendid lakes, Stupendous cataracts, and great cane-brakes; Of boundless woods, well filled with noble trees And hugest rivers rolling to the seas. The man described quite well Niagara's falls, Its thundering sound as it o'erleaps its walls; He told the distance they could hear the sound, And how with ceaseless roar it shook the ground; Of Summer's heat, of the long Winter's cold, And at what price the finest lands were sold. This, and far more, the settler told the youth, Who did regard it all as sterling truth, And wished--but wished in vain--that he was free To cross at once the stormy, deep blue sea. No way appeared but quietly to wait Till he was loosed, and grown to man's estate. Some years must pass before that day arrive, So to be patient he thought fit to strive.

Nor did he read alone the poet's page, Good books in prose would oft his mind engage: For he had joined th' Mechanics' Institute-- And in its praises I would not be mute. Mechanics! It deserves your best support, And to its rooms you often should resort. There you may learn from books to act your parts, While they refine and elevate your hearts.

He with great travelers took delight to roam In distant countries, far away from home; And frequently has dropped a silent tear O'er PARK'S great trials in the desert drear. Oh! who can read of all his heart-felt woes-- His frequent sufferings, and his dying throes-- And fail to drop a sympathetic tear For his sad end--without a friend to cheer!

In LANDERS' patient, persevering toil, Through greatest dangers, on wild Afric's soil, He felt the deepest interest, and partook Their joys and sorrows, while he read their book. And hailed, with pleasure and unfeigned delight, The happy moment when the welcome sight Of Niger's junction with the great deep sea A period put to their sad misery!

His sober and industrious conduct gained The Master's confidence--which he retained; And so, in services requiring trust He was employed, and still continued just. Sometimes to distant places he was sent-- And well he did enjoy the time thus spent. It scope afforded to reflective powers-- And thus he profited by these spare hours. Greatly did it delight him to behold Fair Nature glittering in green and gold: And the pure melody in different groves Reminded him of his own early loves; Or led him to break out, with tuneful voice, In some sweet hymn, which made his heart rejoice. For he had now begun to feel the worth Of Heavenly things, and pour God's praises forth.

In this way, once he passed through Dallam Park, To see its deer, and other objects mark. These lovely creatures to his mind did seem Most unfit objects of man's sporting dream. He greatly wondered how some men could be E'er guilty of, such wanton cruelty, As to pursue, with horses and with hounds, Such harmless creature over all their grounds; Hunt him o'er swamps and fields, and mountain slopes, Through pebbly streams, or shady hazel copse, Till they have driven him at last to bay, Toward the close of some most sultry day. Wondered how any one, with tearless eye, Could mark his sufferings, and then watch him die. Oh, cruel man! when will thy thirst for blood Be turned to energy in doing good? When will Creation's groans come to an end, And men delight in love their days to spend? While such reflections occupied his mind, The place he went to seek he strives to find, And is successful; gets his business done, Then back pursues his homeward way alone.

'Tis time for me to curb my vagrant Muse; A subject waits my pen she well may choose. Now aid me, O my God! who dwell'st above, While I attempt to sing Redeeming Love! Nor let one line, or word, be writ by me Not in accordance with that Mystery! May I, to profit fellow-sinners, strive, And good from this for my own soul derive.

So felt our hero, when pure Gospel truth, Came home to him, while yet in days of youth. He was brought up beneath the "joyful sound," And from great snares by this was fenced around; Yet, Oh! what grief and sorrow filled his soul, When he first saw his heart and conduct foul-- Was led to view God's holy law aright, And know he was condemned in His just sight. Then, what true joy did Jesus' love inspire! It kindled in his heart sincere desire To leave, at once, the World's wild, giddy throng, Whose joy and pleasures all to Earth belong, To join with those whose joys are from Above, And who have tasted of a Savior's love. He, with a choice companion, then applied For Christian fellowship; nor was denied. All those kind brethren hearty welcome gave, For each was glad a sinner's soul to save. And joyful praises straight to God ascend, To whom the new-made members they commend. An Elder, grave, gave each an exhortation, To which their hearts respond in approbation.

Soon COOPER felt new life, new aims, new themes-- Which gave fresh turns to all his youthful dreams. The Bible then became his choicest friend; At home, abroad, did all his steps attend, And its blest influence was known to lend.

When we regard the record of God's will, A duty to ourselves we best fulfil! From past experience, I would now advise That all young men, in this respect, be wise. Few weightier matters can attention claim, If at pure peace and happiness we aim, Than the selection of a proper wife-- One that may be a true help-mate for life. "A prudent wife from God alone can come," And only such can make a happy home. What dreadful strife, what wretchedness and woe, From error here is almost sure to flow!

'Tis Sabbath morn, a pleasant, one, in Spring, And Nature's varied voice is tuned to sing. The swallows twitter underneath the eaves, And zephyrs stir the newly-opened leaves; The cock's loud crowing sounds on every hand, Each bird is warbling praises through the land. Young COOPER thinks it were indeed a sin If he to tune his harp did not begin. He rises from his bed, pours forth his praise To his Preserver in some artless lays; Then quickly dresses, and, though humbly born, With mind elate he tastes the sweets of morn. And such a morn! Ah, who would he abed, That has the power to taste these sweets instead. Most grateful odors greet the well-charmed sense, From blooming fruit-trees o'er yon garden fence; The sweet wild-flowers amid the new-sprung grass Make it seem carpeted in Fancy's glass. And it a carpet proves to those blithe lambs Which play around their several watchful dams. All Nature smiles in loveliest green attire, And seems to manifest a strong desire To speak the praise of All-Creating Power, In striking language, at this early hour. She, bursting forth from Winter's cold embrace, Exulting leaves behind his every trace. So, on the morning of this hallowed day, The Savior tore the bars of Death away. He Resurrection-truth brought forth to light, And we with rapture hail the glorious sight. Now hark! that sound fast floating on the breeze, And streaming forth from 'midst those dark yew trees 'Tis church-bell music! and peal follows peal, Till strong emotions we begin to feel. Now it pours full on the delighted ear; Soon, changing with the wind, the strains we hear As if the bells were many miles away, And some few tones had merely chanced to stay! Again, it comes in full harmonious swell, With thrilling power--as I remember well.

Thus pleased in mind, WILLIAM his way now wends Toward a hill, which he at once ascends; And thence pursues the road to Birkland's farm, Where from kind friends he meets reception warm. The aged matron--since in grave-yard laid-- Was wont to render him her friendly aid In shape of counsel--or delicious fare-- Of which good things he needed then a share. The breakfast over, straight the Bible's brought, A proper chapter found as soon as sought; Remarks are made, or they some question ask: To gain instruction proves a pleasing task. This done, sweet hymns of praise to God arise.

In Sunday School engaged twice each Lord's day, And hearing three discourses, some would say No time could then remain for aught beside; But this, my friends, has only to be tried. For COOPER, in reserve, two hours still kept An Elder's invitation to accept, Him to accompany to his home, and there Join in sweet conversation, hymn or prayer. Thus mostly passed his Sabbaths for two years, Which kept him free from many doubts and fears; Enabled him to work at business still With easy mind, and with right hearty will, And find that Wisdom's ways are pleasantness, While all her paths are peace and heart-felt bliss.

But little now remains for us to note, Of grief endured, or of true pleasure sought, While he remained in his dear native place, The pain of leaving which he had to face. Except Religion, he had but one theme, That much engaged his mind in each day-dream. This one was Emigration, which increased In strength till his apprenticeship had ceased. Accounts from different Colonies he read-- Their capabilities, and state of trade; The various climates next he pondered o'er, And Canada preferred still more and more. He learned, indeed, the heat and cold were great; But thought that Nature's works would compensate For what one suffered from her climate's rigor; So preparation soon was made with vigor. His father's family no objection raised, As they had friends there who the country praised. Yet all thought well to seek the Lord's direction; Secure His aid and fatherly protection. This done, they did no longer hesitate To take the steps required in change so great. The kind employers of both man and son Showed plainly that their confidence was won; Each made them offers if they would remain-- Of which they had no reason to complain. The sire, at that one place, employed had been For something over twenty years, I ween. There he wrought hard--but for a decent wage-- And was approaching fast toward old age; So, dare not longer such a place engage. While William's natural romantic turn Led him all offers, good and ill, to spurn. He thought of little but Canadian farms, And heeded not Rebellion's loud alarms, Which his old master pointed out to him, To put a stop to such a foolish whim. Yet it caused them sincerest grief of heart From all kind friends and relatives to part, Without a prospect of beholding more Each much-loved face, on dear Old England's shore.

THE ARGUMENT.-Address to Commerce. Emigrants reach the Sea. Farewell to England. WILLIAM'S employments on board. Storm described. Reach Banks of Newfoundland. Foggy weather. Icebergs seen. Land seen. Emigrant's joy. Ship spoken. Cross Gulf of St. Lawrence. Enter River. Scenery, etc. Arrive before Quebec. To Montreal. Thence by Ottawa to Kingston. Thence to Hamilton. Settle near Brantford, on a bush farm. Shifts for furniture. WILLIAM'S narrow escape from Death in logging. His relish of bush sights and sounds. Wants a companion. Resolution formed and kept. Remarks incident to it. Conclusion.

Our ship had not been long at Mersey's mouth Before a breeze sprung up from east by south; And then the welcome sound fell on the ear Of "Square the main yards! Sailors, do you hear?" A hearty "Aye, Sir!" was the loud response, And she had glided into sea at once! With haste they for the Northern passage make, But that good breeze did them too soon forsake. Awhile they lay becalmed, and then return, And reach the Southern passage just at morn. Soon, soon they lose the truly precious sight Of English shores, bathed in the morning light! A few more hours, and land has disappeared; They see no more Old Albion's cliffs upreared. Let us suppose that then this poor young man, In plaintive strains his Farewell thus began:

"Adieu, my native Land! a long Adieu! Years, years must pass before again I view Thy much-loved shores, fast fading from my sight, Or scenes preserved in fondest memory bright! Should I be spared to reach yon distant coast, Remembrances of thee will not be lost. Should I be prospered in Canadian woods, With a sufficiency of this world's goods, I still with pleasure will look back to thee, And hail thy tokens of prosperity! Will still remember, with a joyful heart, Each much-loved face--each interesting part. O, may thy peaceful Arts still flourish round, And happiness in every nook be found! May thy great Rulers feel an interest still In all thy weal--and duty thus fulfil! Adieu, my Country! may'st thou ever be A Friend to Truth, and Mistress of the Sea!"

Sometimes a book his close attention craves-- At times, for hours, he watches the dark waves, Or sits and gazes on that liquid blue, And calls up phantoms of strange shape and hue; Or tries to realize a shipwreck scene, Till he scarce knows but he through one has been; Or, having found a worthy Christian friend, In sweetest converse many hours would spend. One storm they had--it was the only one-- Which lasted but a day, and then was gone. He oft had longed most eagerly to see The foaming billows in their majesty; And now they came, with desperate fury fraught, As if they set all human skill at naught! Strong and more strongly blows the mighty wind, Till the tall masts like merest saplings bend! Anon, the vessel ships a weighty sea, Then all below is dread and misery; While the salt water pours in torrents down, As if inclined the Emigrants to drown! Some women shriek, and children cry aloud, While men toward the hatchways quickly crowd, Not now inclined to utter oaths profane, Or break a jest a meed of praise to gain. Some, on their knees, implore the "Virgin's" aid; And some true prayer is to the Savior made. The wind abates, but still the surges roar, Hearts fearful beat, and consciences feel sore. Ere long, the calm begins to be perceived And many feel as speedily relieved! Some hasten to the deck to look abroad, But few are found returning thanks to God! Yet some there were who truly grateful felt, And spake God's praise as they before Him knelt. Then WILLIAM saw, more clearly than before, His wondrous wisdom and His mighty power! He felt God's goodness in both storm and calm, And sense of this was to his soul like balm.

Now they approach the Banks of Newfoundland, And densest fog prevails on every hand. More danger does beset them than before, For they might be by larger ships run o'er. Strict watch is kept, and lights hung out with care, That they may not be taken unaware. Small sail is carried till the sky be clear; Yet onward, in their proper course, they steer. Icebergs are seen; and now the welcome cry Of "Land O's" heard from off the top-mast high! All eyes are strained to catch the joyful sight, And Newfoundland is hailed with true delight! Now soon a smart-built ship is near at hand-- A splendid craft! just come from Yankee land. How gracefully she bounces o'er the wave, Which seems desirous her fair form to have! A speaking distance very soon she gains, And "Ship-a-hoy!" is heard in loudest strains. Salute thus courteous is by each addressed, And questions put--in seaman's phrase expressed. This done, away the gallant ship has sped, Like some fair phantom which we do not dread!

They reach Quebec, and anchor in due time Before its heights--so towering and sublime! What views now meet their truly raptured sight-- All Nature's smiling in the evening light! The falls of Montmorency, just below-- With all her foam, most like to driven snow, And ever-rising mist--proclaim aloud The Being and the Presence of her God!

Ere long they purchased a young, wild ox-team, Which had for months been wandering in the woods, Where they did not but eat, and drink, and dream, Like lords of all in those deep solitudes. Our WILLIAM acted as the Teamster still, And did his test to train them to his will; Yet for a time they would not brook restraint, But ran to th' woods, on dangerous frolic bent.

From this digression let us now return, To note what WILLIAM found with deep concern; That "'Tis not good for Man to be alone," As said by God, in Wisdom's solemn tone. This now appeared to him a serious truth, Far more than it had done in days of youth. The birds still paired, and had their separate nest, From love responsive in each songster's breast; But, though he loved on Nature's face to gaze, And mark the beauties which each day displays, He felt a vacancy in his young breast, For he no lov'd companion then possessed. Far different was it in his native land-- There, such an one might always be at hand. Where was he now to look? Religious views Left him small space from which a mate to choose. God's word came to his aid, and then in prayer He threw himself upon his Father's care. That word declares, that "He who had not spared His well-beloved Son, was not prepared For once withholding from his children dear Aught which they need, while still sojourning here!" This precious promise proved to be as balm, To keep his troubled heart at present calm; And he resolved in patience still to wait, Till God should find for him a true "help-mate." This resolution formed, was kept intact, Nor was the strength his own, for that he lacked. He, though so young, had very clearly seen That Man, in every age, is prone to lean Upon an arm of flesh--most frail support! Which often fails us, oft makes us its sport. And yet, O strange perversity! we cling To that which never can us comfort bring. He knew 'twas better to feel flesh so weak As to be forced his strength from God to seek; To feel, like Paul, "However weak we be, We may still glory in Infirmity." From day to day, from week to week mav prove The prcciousness of trusting in God's love! Should we do this, our joy will never cease-- Dark things will all look bright! Our end be peace!

Naught now remains but scattered chips and sticks, Which their host's hopeful son at leisure picks, And lays upon the heaps--some here, some there-- The burning to assist, which needs due care. 'Tis supper time; again the horn is heard, And its deep tones has woodland echoes stirred. Most charming sound to my poetic ear; And every time 'tis heard still far more dear! They hear the sound, but yet seem loath to go; And when they do, their steps are very slow. They are well tired; no wonder; such a day Of work laborious would some tire for aye! Once more they wash; once more they freely eat; Then light their pipes; and now each other greet With warm "Good night!" but, ere they have departed, Their host thanks them, from gratitude warm-hearted. Now all are gone, save two, who skulk behind, Of the younger son; and, if I am not blind, A couple of bright girls I failed to mention, Are not quite unaware of their intention. But this is not my business, so I'll pass To other things, and let each court his lass.

THE LOGGER'S SONG.

Come, Boys, to the Logging be cheerfully jogging, A day's work's before us, I trow; The Fall is advancing, Sol's mild beams are dancing On the brook, in the Fallow below. Cheerily, cheerily, cheerily, O! Let's log in the Fallow below.

The oxen are waiting, they need no fresh baiting, Till dinner-time come for us all; Now, while we are pushing, our work the new Bush in, Let none into carelessness fall. Steadily, steadily, steadily, O! Let's work in the Fallow below.

The logs, thickly lying, our strength seem defying; But forward, Boys! true courage show! With hand-spikes unbending, this day we will spend in The capture of each charred foe. Speedily, speedily, speedily, O! We'll capture each black, charred foe.

Now, lads, in your teaming, let's have no blaspheming! Your oxen are patient and strong; Our logging laborious need not be uproarious, Nor lead us to anything wrong. Decently, decently, decently, O! Let's act, as the huge log-heaps grow.

When dinner-horn sounding, calls all that are found in The Fallow to come to the Feast, Let's guard 'gainst satiety--eat with sobriety-- So shall our joys be increased. Soberly, soberly, soberly, O! We'll eat what our friends may bestow.

When day is departing, and we are all starting For Home, with its sweet earthly bliss, May thoughts of wives smiling be still reconciling Our minds to hard labor, like this. Then freely, most freely, still freely, O! To all neighbors' loggings we'll go.

Such work as that I have described above, And holding plow, kept WILLIAM on the move. Of active turn, he worked beyond his strength-- And felt the sad effects, in full, at length. Yet at this season, in Canadian woods, He could not well refrain from musing moods. Nor was it any wonder, when each day Added fresh charms to Nature's grand display. The once-green leaves, struck by the early frost, Made up in gorgeous tints what they had lost! He felt that never in his life before Had he e'er seen such hues as those trees wore. Some that were shaded still preserved their green, While others near were decked in golden sheen. Some in deep crimson robes were gaily drest, Others in shades of brown, as seemed them best; While not a few, of pride in dress were fuller, And had their robes of every splendid color! The weather, too, was of that balmy kind, So suited to a dreamy state of mind; For mighty Sol felt his yet powerful rays Subdued, being wrapped in a thin, blue haze. 'Tis true, there came the oft-recurring thought, That all these beauties were too dearly bought; That soon, too soon, tempestuous winds would rise, And murky clouds veil those bewitching skies! That Winter but delayed his coming now To gather blackness on his cold, knit brow, That he might rush with tenfold furious rage, And all the elements in war engage, To strip the trees of all their splendors bare And make sweet Nature a stern aspect wear! Such thoughts at times filled him with melancholy, Which then, shook off, were looked upon as folly And after-thoughts brought in their joyous train Pleasures prospective, during Winter's reign. The fleecy snow's wild dancing through the air; The clean, white sheet, wove for the soil to wear, To guard the plants designed for next year's food From Frost's attacks, when in a vengeful mood. The sleighing, too, in prospect, had delights For one like he--so used to Fancy's flights. He heard already, in imagination, The jingling bells, producing sweet sensation. And 'midst such dreaming Time flew swiftly by, While he, to stay its course, wished not to try. His Sabbath days met with observance due, For he to Christian ways continued true. The family with loving Brethren met, Some miles from home, as oft as they could get. With them "broke bread," and joined in praise and prayer, Or heard Christ's doctrine read, or preached, with care. This they continued every Sabbath day, And found much benefit from it always.

Meanwhile their worldly means grew less and less, And fear of debt led them through some distress. At last their circumstances were made known To a dear friend, who did a kind heart own. He WILLIAM took, to help him in his store, And gave good wages--which endeared him more To those, thus favored, who by this perceived He carried out, in practice, truths believed. In this employment WILLIAM staid not long, His sensitiveness soon made things go wrong. He therefore back returned into the Bush, Where Want stood ready his fond hopes to crush.

Ere this, dread Winter had set in with rigor, Yet he his bright axe took again with vigor. Throughout the woods the snow lay very deep, And Nature's face betokened death-like sleep. Few sounds were heard to break the stillness round, Yet in those few our hero pleasure found. The loud report of Indian hunter's gun, Which sometimes made the cattle homeward run; The beauteous woodpecker's quick rap-tapping At girdled trees, that long since had no sap in; Besides, the chopper's almost constant stroke Rang through pure air, and louder echoes woke; While ever and anon a tree would fall With thundering crash, which might some minds appal. These all were sounds which he loved well to hear, For they, 'mid hard employ, his heart did cheer.

Severe the Bush-man's life, and full of danger, While, to most scanty fare he is no stranger. It needs good eyes, strong arms, and courage, too, To live the life which most new settlers do. The elder COOPER'S sight was very bad, Which came nigh bringing him a fate most sad. They were both chopping at a basswood tree-- Stroke followed after stroke most rapidly-- When, lo! a sudden blast of wind arose, WILLIAM perceived it, and withheld his blows; Looked up, saw danger, bade his father fly! Reached a safe place himself, which was near by; The tree came down; he quickly then returned, And stood amazed as soon as he discerned His father's near escape from tree-crushed fate; He quite unconscious of his danger great. There rested, just a foot above his head, A huge crook'd branch, that might have struck him dead, Had it not been for God's most watchful care, So plainly manifested to him there. This wondrous mercy called forth gratitude, And Love's warm glow fresh in their hearts renewed.

In cutting logs for barn, and drawing lumber, Our hero spent of days a goodly number. Amongst deep snow, and with a slow ox-team, One thinks 'twould prove a damper to his dream. Not so, however; though his food was scant, Of liking for the Bush he felt no want. He and his brother scoured the woods around, Where'er 'twas likely straight logs could be found. These cut, were left till snow had "settled down," When to the barn-site they with speed were drawn. Thus passed the hardest months of that hard season, And Sol's increasing warmth was hailed with reason. The more, because that Sugar-time drew near, With its romantic scenes, to WILLIAM dear From what he heard the older Settlers say, So, for it he prepared without delay.

THE SUGAR-MAKER'S SONG.

Sol's warmth is increasing, the Frost-King is ceasing His hold on the sap of the trees; And having wrought steady, my troughs are all ready, So now I will eagerly seize My few rude tools, ere ardor cools, Nor heed the melting snow. Some days of toil will never spoil The pleasure before me, I know.

I need no inviting, to work I delight in; Of such I have plenty to-day; The soft blush of Morning the scene is adorning, Then why should I longer delay? The Maple tree will give to me Its bounty most profuse; One huge sweet cake I hope to make Each day, from the saccharine juice!

Last night's splendid freezing as truly most pleasing To those who the Sugar-Bush love; This morn's indications' need no explanations, As the day will abundantly prove! Then haste, comrade, and bring your spade; To clear away the snow, That our wood-fire may soon acquire A beautiful, bright, ruddy glow.

Now, comrade, each kettle of cast-iron metal Is full enough quite for a start; Pray keep the fire going, but yet not too glowing, For thus you will best act your part. While I am off, guard the store-trough From cattle browsing near; This splendid "run" may soon be done-- The north wind is coming, I fear!

The syrup needs skimming. "Leave it to the women?" Ah, comrade, it never will do! They may mind the straining without much complaining, Yet think it is quite enough, too. Now eventide, and frost beside, Bid us our labor cease; For home we'll make, and syrup take To them, as an offering of Peace!

The lively strain which I have just indulged, Must change full soon, if facts were all divulged. For darker shades come o'er my hero's dream; But we must pause, ere we resume the theme. And trust this sketch of rude Bush-life may prove Acceptable to those who Nature love. Such retrospect has charms for one like me, Who has passed through such scenes most happily. Pardon me, Reader, if my unlearned song Should seem to you quite dull, and much too long;

The good of all I would most gladly seek, From purest motives, and with spirit meek-- Not counting Fame, so dazzling to men's eyes, But God's approval, as my wished-for prize. Should this be mine, I shall be quite content, And deem my time and labor wisely spent.

The different remedies which friends advised, All failed to bring the health he so much prized. His fond hopes crushed, he tried to bow his head, Submissive to the will of Him who bled For such poor sinners, on the "cursed tree;" And found some comfort in his misery. One day his spirits sank extremely low-- And Faith, herself, fled from him in his woe; When, like a flash of lightning, to his mind A passage came, sent by his FATHER kind! "Fight the good fight of Faith," with magic worth Rang through his soul, and very soon gave birth To a most lively, energetic Song, On Christian Warfare--in which he was long. I give the verses, with an earnest prayer That all my Readers may their spirit share, And seek for grace to help them still to fight The "Fight of Faith," as in their Maker's sight!

THE CHRISTIAN'S BATTLE-SONG. "Fight the Good Fight of Faith."

Soldiers of Jesus! say--Where is your armor? The word has gone forth; you are called on to fight! Still doth the conflict grow warmer and warmer; Then trust in your Captain for wisdom and might!

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